Broken Clock
by Aaargh-Alex
Summary: When grief takes hold of a person, they forget how to do the simplest of things. Time doesn’t seem to make sense anymore. One minute can take a lifetime,and five hours can slip away altogether in a heartbeat. -one-shot-


**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.**

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_Suddenly she remembered all that she had left behind. She saw shades fly by her, through the hall of death, and thought that she recognised some of them. What if one of those shades should prove to be her husband or her daughters! No, she could still hear their sighs and their weeping. She had forgotten them for the sake of her dead child. _

_'Now all the bells of heaven ring,' said the little boy. 'Mother, the sun is rising!'_

_The Dead Child_ by **Hans Christian Anderson**

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**Broken Clock**

The clock was wrong.

Lily had observed just how wrong the clock was; it had only just turned three 'o' clock. Why did the clock say it was five?

James had assured her that yes, it was five 'o' clock, but she didn't believe it.

It had to be three.

At three 'o' clock, he had been there.

He was smiling, albeit a weak smile, but smiling all the same.

Her pride and joy. Her one truest love. The one she had loved more than any other.

But now it was five, which meant he was no longer there. He was gone, just like that.

Gone.

It sounded so wrong. He couldn't have gone anywhere. He was far too young to be leaving, let alone without her or James.

But he had. Left. He'd left them.

And she had been repeating this in her head everyday for the last week.

Everyday, at three 'o' clock, the clock jumped forward two hours. Those two most precious hours, and they escaped every time. Slipped away suddenly, almost as if they had never been there in the first place.

What was wrong with the clock?

Why did it keep on doing that?

It must be broken.

Everyone around her was in mourning, but for what?

It was three 'o' clock. There was nothing wrong. Everything was just fine.

But hadn't James said it was five?

Five 'o' clock.

It couldn't be.

She had hoped, prayed, begged that five 'o' clock would never come. That it would stay three 'o' clock.

But it hadn't. No one had heard her prayers, the prayers of a broken mother. The broken clock had jumped again.

She hadn't cried yet.

When they had first told her, she had let out a sob, but only because she couldn't understand why anyone would say such a thing.

Now, in her state of complete disbelief and numbness, she could not cry. She could not weep for her loss, and she sunk ever further down into the bottomless pit of despair.

Her husband had shed many tears for the lost life of their child, as had their friends, but Lily thought not of those she had left.

She only thought of her sweet, innocent child.

* * *

The darkest night of all was the night before the funeral. Neither parent got much sleep. It was in the small hours of the morning that James fell into a fitful slumber, but for Lily, the sweet relief of sleep did not come until an hour before she was supposed to awake. However, she gave into her fatigue and allowed sleep to claim her for the short time she could manage.

She was shaken awake by James.

"Lily?"

James touched her lightly upon the shoulder, deep sorrow evident in his overly bright eyes.

"Let me see my baby. It's only three 'o' clock; he'll just be upstairs. Let me see my baby!"

Her voice grew thick with hysteria as she finished her sentence, and James had to bite back a sob.

"Lily, they're moving the coffin. It's time."

Lily looked at him, a panicked look in her eyes.

"Why? James, I have to see him! I want to see my son!"

James took hold of both her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"Lily, Harry is gone. He's not coming back. You have to understand."

Lily clasped a hand to her mouth, a sob escaping her lips.

"If there is a god, then he is harsh, and cruel to me. He does not answer to the prayers of a desperate mother. If this is so, how can I expect you to treat me any kinder?"

James just looked at her sorrowfully, and began to change.

* * *

They buried the coffin in the earth, and her heart and soul along with it.

She had sat for what seemed like an age, listening to her husband's sobs, or his friend's soft words of comfort.

Words were of no comfort to her now.

Pain consumed her, and it was a struggle to put one foot in front of another. Her mind begged the question, "Why bother?"

Why bother?

The days passed by, a dull repetitive ache ripping her apart from the inside.

She forgot how to sleep.

Sleep is something that comes naturally, like breathing, or blinking. It is something that has to be done, and one need not even think about it. It is automatic.

But when grief takes hold of a person, they forget how to do the simplest of things.

Sleep doesn't come easily anymore. Breathing becomes a very difficult task. Blinking is painful.

Time doesn't seem to make sense anymore. One minute can take a lifetime, and five hours can slip away altogether in a heartbeat.

What scared Lily most of all was her inability to feel.

A sense of numbness overtook her, and aside from the ache, she felt nothing.

* * *

It was three 'o' clock in the morning. Lily had not slept, and was beginning to get bored of trying.

She swung her legs out of bed wearily, and began to dress herself. Her plan was to make herself a drink, then settle down in the chair before the fire.

The soft creak of the staircase rung throughout the silent house, as she slowly made her way into the kitchen.

She stopped at the bottom step.

He was there, rustling around in the cupboard. He had in his hand a biscuit. She smiled; he was always stealing biscuits. He thought she didn't know, but she was his mother, after all. It was her job to know these things.

He turned to her, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Vanished.

Lily stared at the spot where her son had previously been stood, with custard cream in hand, the tousled hair and cheeky four year old grin with pearly baby teeth she had loved so much.

"Why do you keep leaving me?" She whispered. Silence was her only response.

She grabbed the key, unlocked the back door and silently left the house.

* * *

The churchyard was dark with shadows, yet bright with the light of the moon. Lily quickly located the gravestone of her child, and sat down beside it.

The earth was the only thing separating a mother from her child.

She placed her palms flat on the soil, digging in her nails, wishing she was clutching at him, rather than dirt.

Deeper, deeper her fingers dove in, but she came no closer to her child. She extracted her hands, shaking them free of dirt, and for the first time in days, began to sob.

Tears fell upon her dirt caked fingers, and the disturbed soil, seeping into the ground.

Her sobs continued unchecked for a few moments, until a voice was heard.

"You miss him, don't you?"

Lily looked up, seeing a teenage boy stood before her. He was small, with jet hair. Glasses obscured his eyes, along with darkness and shadows, but Lily managed to deduce that they were some shade of green.

He smiled at her.

"Would you like to see him?"

Lily choked at those words.

"More than anything in the world."

The boy pointed to the gravestone behind her.

"Then turn around."

Lily turned, and the site that met her eyes was the most beautiful of all. There sat her child, smiling as he always did. His smile widened at the site of his mother.

"Mummy!" he called out. Lily closed her eyes, letting his sweet voice consume her, letting it ring in her ears like the chiming of the most beautiful bell.

"Mummy!" he called out again, this time standing and running to her. She felt as his arms were wrapped softly around her waist.

"My baby, my Harry…" She whispered, taking her child in her arms. He smiled.

"It's a pretty place to be, this room, mummy."

Lily looked at her child in confusion.

"What do you mean? We're in a churchyard, Harry."

"Do you not see the bright light? Can't you hear their voices? They sound happy," Harry said softly. "Mummy, I want to be happy, with them."

A soft music suddenly reached Lily's ears. It was music like that of a Music Box she had once owned as a child, with its sweet little tune drifting through the air. But that was all she heard; her eyes could not see the people that her child could see, nor the happiness or light.

She had to place her faith and trust in a light she could not see.

"Mummy, the gate has opened. The light is bright now. They say I can go, but I can't go. I can't leave you until you stop feeling sad. Your tears stop me."

Lily closed her eyes.

"Mummy, please don't be sad. I want to go. Will you let me leave this place?"

Lily's eyes opened at once.

"No! Please, don't leave me, not just yet."

Lily's grip on her child tightened, and she kissed him softly.

"Mummy, it won't be long until you see me again. And I'm never really gone; I'll watch you."

"Lily!"

Lily heard a voice calling out to her.

Harry smiled.

"Look, it's Uncle Sirius. He's come to look for you, along with Daddy."

Lily saw Sirius, his dark hair messy and unkempt. He looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.

And then she saw James, dressed in naught be the clothes he had slept in.

"Mummy, you must go. They're worried about you; everyone is. You can't forget about them; they love you."

Lily felt tears dribble down her cheeks. Two people she loved. They needed her as much as Harry. She couldn't let them down. Harry was right. Harry smiled.

"They're calling me. I have to leave mummy. I love you."

Lily released her child, and a sudden light filled the church yard. Within a moment, Sirius was at her side, supporting her.

"Lily, are you alright?" he asked, concern laced into his voice. She smiled serenely.

"Actually, Sirius, yes."

Sirius gave Lily a funny look.

"Lily, I just found you stood in a graveyard, at five in the morning. Talking to someone who isn't there. We've been looking for you for two hours! Are you sure you're alright?"

Lily looked at the spot where her child had been stood. In his place stood the teenage boy she had talked to earlier. He winked her, and mouthed,

"Bye mum."

He disappeared. She grinned, and turned back to Sirius.

"I see the clock jumped again then…It must be broken…"

"What?"

Lily sighed, feeling as though the weight on her shoulders had been slightly lessened. She could move on.

"I'm just fine Sirius. Just fine."

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**Notes: Well... This fic was actually inspired by _The Dead Child _by _Hans Christian Anderson_,a story and writer, for that matter, which I happen to adore. I recently dug out my copy of the book _The Complete Fairy Tales and Stories of Hans Anderson_for an art project, and****as I read over the aforementioned story, I thought of a small little one-shot based upon it! **

**It's AU, but what the hell. I was satisfied. I'm hoping people will like it, but if not, never mind. :)**


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